Fantasy
Heed My Handmaid's Tale
To whatever unlucky soul may find this letter, Sometimes life doesn’t work out the way you imagined, and that’s certainly what happened for me. I’ll start at the beginning though, as not to confuse anyone reading this. My name is Elizabeth McLane, or at least it was, when I was alive. Not to say that I’m not alive, but I’ll get to that. My life was rather average, I had loving parents, a great job, I was doing well in school, and had plans to marry my high school sweetheart. Life was great! Until my boyfriend gifted me that stupid locket. It was a gorgeous gold locket, in the shape of a heart, and it complimented my golden tan skin perfectly. Getting that locket was the start of all of my troubles, however.
By Jessica Monson5 years ago in Fiction
Dawn's Red Sky
https://www.pikist.com/free-photo-sdjxs Craig watched the last wisps of gun smoke rise slowly into the air. His little band of survivors had been fortunate this time, but there was still losses. Mitch lay on the ground, unmoving. His freckled face would not light up in that devil may care grin again. He was only a kid, but the constant struggle for survival had aged him, and everyone else, fast. Several others had minor injuries, but no one else had died today. The would be attackers all lay dead. Running a hand through his brown, filthy hair, Craig looked at his band of fighters. Lack of food and sleep, and above all the constant need for alertness and caution, was taking its toll on everyone. “All right, everyone, load up and let's head back to base.” “What about Mitch?” Kurt asked. “His body stays,” Craig replied. Unhappy murmuring echoed around the group, but no one opposed Craig. Somehow he'd managed to keep everyone alive and safe despite the odds. These days, that counted for a lot.
By Margaret Draper5 years ago in Fiction
The Mid-Hills
THE MID-HILLS Ruthy-Ru In the heart of the hills far north of a northwestern city, an old woman sat playing dice on a slab of ancient granite before a crackling fire. Her home was a warm and inviting place where many had paid long and eventful visits; from this World and Others, many of the locals were heard to say over a few beers at the Clear Lake Tavern.
By Jeffrey Harris5 years ago in Fiction
Wonderment
The moon is swollen and brighter than usual. Her pale, quivering light creates elongated shadows between the crevices of the buildings below. A boy stops and looks up. He can’t see me – he is wearing his mask – but I hold my breath all the same. Stepping back from the window frame, my sleeve catches on a shard of old paint. It tugs briefly then snaps free. The sensation sends a shiver through down my spine.
By Cara Thurlbourn5 years ago in Fiction
Desperados
Friday 26th of July, 2109. What used to be Tucson, Arizona. The man the others called “Bull Frog” pointed his shotgun at the hydraulic Honky-Tonk piano, which started playing a bluegrass version of “Paint it Black”. He was white, sunburnt, about 6’6”, bald, in his mid-fifties. There was yellow grease on his short beard. There was something deeply perverse about him. It was not hard to tell that the man was jaded by violence. No soul in his eyes no matter how long one would stare into them.
By Konstantinos Andrikopoulos5 years ago in Fiction
Treasure Hunt
I opened my eyes. There was an eye right in front of mine. It wasn’t Mommy. I tried to grab her hand. The water took her away. It took a lot of them away. I saw them as I grabbed the arm outstretched beside me. I didn’t even see the arm. I just reached out and it was there. The water was churning. It was scary. The boat made the water wavy. The waves took some of them. It took a lot of them. Mommy was gone. I went under for a sec, and then she was gone. The arm next to me held me. The boat was coming. It was coming towards us.
By Lisa Poeltl5 years ago in Fiction
Angel of the Night
As the wolves’ howl at the sea, by the moonlight, we move quietly from our resting place. She silently shifts her weight from one foot to the next, counting the strides, feeling the space in between. Sensing the midnight air on her face, feeling the depth of the risk that falls in front of her, she begins to crouch, brace and wait. Cowering in the long grass, just for a moment longer, not yet ready to run.
By Nicole Kennedy5 years ago in Fiction
Cities in Pine
I awake from a dreamless sleep and, as always, gather my scattered thoughts about eternity before rising again. Behind me the boundless path runs to distant forgotten horizons, while the way forward is indistinguishable, absurd, and hazy. Powered by a ceaseless breeze flush with the rich scent-memory of a timeless but purposeful task, I wander the length of what I suspect to be an ancient evergreen tree, but at a scale that has afforded this lonely journey several thousands of years. Every needle-like leaf seems to stretch out before me as a limitless, empty plain bathed in dazzling light, the tree’s thick and unforgiving bark the indomitable mountain ranges that bound these alien landscapes.
By Andrew Rushby5 years ago in Fiction
Life cycles
The girl sheltered with thirteen others – the smallest overwinter party she’d ever been part of. Even so, by the time the glaciers began to loosen their vice-like grip on the valley, only eleven remained. An older man had died from cold – slipping quietly from lethargy into stiffness over a single darkness.
By Nichola Casse5 years ago in Fiction
The Junior that Knew too Much
In the bushes, off to the side of the compound, Julie counted to herself, ‘1,2,3’ as she wiped the sweat from her brow. It was just before sunset, but the heat felt like midday. In the bushes, off to the side of the compound, Julie counted to herself, ‘1,2,3’ as she wiped the sweat from her brow. It was just before sunset, but the heat felt like midday.
By April Innes5 years ago in Fiction
Girl on Fire
Clothes littered the ground, ripped off hangers or dropped in piles like mounds on a battleground. A shoe, worn out and foreign rested lonely near the doorway, left behind. Abandoned. Shards of glass decorated the floor, strangely beautiful and glimmering in the flickering lights, contrasting harshly with the surrounding messes. Glimmering in light that was all too fluorescent. Indecently so. Shining too brightly when a mask of darkness would have been a much kinder gift.
By Melissa Faith5 years ago in Fiction
